Gray Summer
by Hey-Kahl
Summary: After attending a school in California, Kyle is returning to South Park for summer break. On the trip home, he realizes that he has a crush on his biggest enemy. Kyle has changed, both inside and out…but have his friends? Kyman. Language, Sex, Bondage etc
1. Chapter 1  Phone Call

**1. Phone Call**

I never expected the call from Stan.

It had been a long time since we'd exchanged real words. Most nights we talked over IM; a month a go we'd even tried a webcam conversation. But for some reason, phoning each other just never seemed necessary. I guess it came to be this way early on in the year, when I'd call Stan every night and never get hold of him.

"He's at Wendy's," his mom would say, in a voice that was almost sympathetic. "Try again tomorrow night. I'll make sure he's home by six."

But six o'clock would come around, and Stan wouldn't be home. Then, eventually, when he did try to call me I was out rehearsing. Cell phones were useless; aside from the hefty bills that came with them, mine was usually turned off and I assumed Stan's was too.

So, after almost six months of no voice contact, when I picked up the receiver in the common room, I almost didn't recognize his voice.

"Kyle?" he said uncertainly.

"Stan?" I said back, matching his tone.

This was enough of a greeting for us both, and a moment later we dove into conversation. Stan chatted excitedly about the little town of South Park where he was, quite happily, stuck. He told me all about Wendy, which kind of wiped the smile off my face, because I knew what was coming next. As if prompted by my uneasiness, he asked if I had a girlfriend. I said "no, not yet", and he continued to talk as if he'd hardly heard me.

He finished with something about football, but by this time I'd lost most interest. It was cool though, because practically nothing had changed in the six months I'd been away.

"So what's happening with you?" Stan asked finally. "You said something on IM the other night about acting?"

I hesitated, feeling heat rise to my face, and squeaked an affirmative yes.

I'd changed since leaving South Park. My parents told me I was too good for the high school, and so after Christmas they sent me away. I was pissed at first; comparing it to sending me to a death camp. This riled my parents and convinced them all the more that I had to get away from this town and my so-called 'friends'.

Namely Eric Cartman.

I'd had one conversation with Cartman in the six or seven months I'd been here. Stan had set up a four-way chat and it ended with a slaughter of insults being tossed between me and the fat-ass. I still spoke to Kenny sometimes, but he'd drifted away from our group when I was still in South Park. Mentally, he was older; more 'experienced' with the real world. Not that that's a good thing. Let's just say he'd rather drag some hooker into a bedroom and pound her brains out than play a game of basketball with us.

The school I went to was prestigious; perfect for me to gain education and a good career or study place afterwards. I had my little clique of friends, though most of them were girls, and within a week of sharing lunches together, they decided to give me a 'makeover'.

After about a month, my afro was gone and straightened enough that the remaining hair kinked around my ears, still flaming red. The girls took me to a massive mall, where they picked out clothes for me and I reluctantly spent my month's worth of allowance on them. They dressed me up like I was some tall lanky ken doll, but despite my shame, the results were worth it. My new clothes totally beat the old parker and cotton trousers.

A week after my 'makeover', I was asked to join the drama club. I told them that I'd give it a go, and six weeks later nervously arrived for my first stage performance…

Since then, I never looked back. But now, staring down at my pinstripe shirt and black jeans, and the silver chain that hung around my neck, I wondered what my best friend would think seeing me this way.

As if reading my mind, Stan says, "So…summer break is coming up. Are you coming home?"

Ah. That must be why he's calling. "Of course I am dude, I can't wait to see everyone."

The uncertainty in his voice disappears. "Awesome! Do you want me to come pick you up, or have you finally gotten off your ass and taken your driving test?"

I laughed. "I think I might need a ride. I was going to catch a plane, but if you're offering…"

"How far is the drive to California?"

"A couple of days. We could make it a kind of road trip. You should bring the other guys."

"That's a fucking awesome idea dude. I'll ask them tomorrow at school."

"How are they?" I asked. In all our talking about Wendy and football and my fancy-ass school, nobody had mentioned the other two.

"Kenny doesn't wear his hood much anymore," Stan said. "It's kind of weird seeing him like that." Then suddenly he started to laugh, as if remembering something. "Not as weird as Cartman, though."

I rolled my eyes at the name, but my curiosity was piqued. "What's he done now?"

There' was a quick pause as Stan's chuckles died down. "He's completely dropped off the weight. He started working out with me about four months ago, and he's become obsessed. He's buff dude, and he knows it. If you thought he was an asshole before…" he let his sentence hang. Something weird happened in my chest. I think my heart sunk.

How was I going to rip on the fat-ass now?

I looked back down at my clothes, and then the polished shoes on my feet.

"Stan…" I said, drawing out the silence to get his undivided attention. "I've changed too."

There was another chuckle, but it was strained and full of tension. "What do you mean?"

"You know before when you asked me if I had a girlfriend? Well…I do. I have lots of girlfriends. They dressed me up and cut my hair, bought me clothes…" I was stuttering, realizing how utterly stupid I sounded.

Unexpectedly, Stan burst with laughter. "Dude! You're a pimp?" I could tell he was joking, and I tried to laugh with him, but it came out weird.

"I'm not a pimp. I just…don't get along with the guys very well."

"Oh," he said, drawing out the word. "I get it."

"Get what?" I asked.

"It's cool dude," he said, seriously. "If you're…that way…I'm cool with it."

"_What_ way?" I demanded. What a dumb question.

"You know. Gay."

"Stan!" I shrieked his name so loud that the students watching TV turned their heads to look at me. I felt my face go red. That was a very, very gay outcry. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "I'm not _gay_, okay? I just like the company of girls better. That sounds wrong…look…all I'm saying is that I look different. I just wanted to tell you so I don't freak you out or anything."

Stan laughed again at this. "Don't worry, dude. I just said I'm fine with you being _gay_, so I'm sure I won't freak out over a simple change of appearance." He sounded a little embarrassed, and I smiled. I wanted to tell him how much of a good friend he was, and how I missed talking to him and hanging out in person. But I figured it'd just cause more tension after the '_gay_' remark. I wasn't gay in any way, but now that he mentioned it, it'd probably come across that way to the whole of South Park.

I wondered a moment if I should ditch my metro clothes in exchange for my old mountain-gear, just while I was in South Park. I was sure I still had that green trapper hat somewhere, though I doubted it'd fit my sixteen-year-old head. It was getting tight when I was twelve. Then again…I didn't have the 'fro anymore.

"Two weeks 'til break," Stan mused. "I'll tell the guy's tomorrow we're going on a road trip. I'll get the car into a mechanics. Dude, do you think you could…" Stan hesitated and drifted off.

"I'll pay you back for the gas," I said, unfazed. "Gas and rooms. The fat-ass can cover snacks, though."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. I don't need to buy a ticket and take a boring-ass plane ride anymore."

"Thanks, man."

I knew Stan didn't have a lot of money. He wasn't anywhere near as poor as Kenny, but all the money he got from his part-time job went into his hunk-of-shit car.

"Look, I gotta go," Stan continued. "Email me the directions to your school and your dorm and whatever, and I'll let you know when I have everything organized."

We said our goodbyes and I hung up.

Even after I'd walked back to my room and locked the door behind me, I felt the familiar tickle of butterflies in my stomach. It was just like before I went out on stage; that restive, nauseating feeling.

They were my best friends, I knew. But that didn't help the feeling.

I'd changed since coming here. I was like a whole new person. Had they changed, too?

_A/N: Short chapter, I know, but it was more an introduction than anything. Read on to ch__apter two – I hope you enjoy! Feel free to give feedback, it'll help motivate me and improve my writing :)_


	2. Chapter 2  An Unexpected Crush

**2. An Unexpected Crush**

The next two weeks went by uneventfully, torturously slow, which is always the case when you're near-bursting at the seams waiting for something. My "girlfriends", as I'd so stupidly described to Stan, were equally excited to meet my friends. Excited in a different way.

It was this idea that led me to my revelation. Not once had one of my girlfriends hit on me. Even when we'd first met, and after we started hanging out. Now, it had gotten to the point where they were more than happy to undress in front of me, tell me who their crushes are, what day they got their period, and so on. Not once had one of them flirted with me. Sure, they'd say things like "Oh my god, you look totally hot in that!", but it was always said the same way they'd tell each other. Girl talk.

The night before the big road trip, I found myself looking in the mirror. My mind was whirling, trying to piece information together; information about myself that I didn't even _know_.

I'd had one date since I'd been here. One kiss. I'd taken her – what was her name? Sandra? – to the movies. We'd snuck out of our dorms after dinner and met up at the front gates, in a cluster of trees so that nobody would find us. Once we met, we began to walk towards the city. Her hand was in mine the whole way. My hand was covered in sweat.

At the movies we'd shared popcorn and a drink, and watched what she had chosen – some lame romantic comedy. Then, on the way home, she stopped me at a bus stop and pulled my head in for a kiss. It was unexpected, and thus short-lived, and I felt embarrassed as she smiled at me and took my hand again. She'd said something like, "Let's do this again".

We never did meet up again. I ignored her texts and advances, and a week later I heard she was with some other guy. After that, I guessed the girls collectively gave up on me, because I wasn't asked out again. Sandra was pretty, but she wasn't my type. Who was?

Now, looking in the mirror, I wondered if there was more to it. I decided that either I'm hideous, or the girls think I'm gay.

The mirror gave me no answers. It was just me. Pale, smooth skin, emerald eyes, awkward nose, thin cheeks framed with fiery hair. I decided that, despite the small flaws, I'm not that bad looking.

Fuck it.

I sighed and sunk down into my bed.

The whole school thinks I'm gay. And me, the dumbass, was completely oblivious.

My cell phone went off at that moment, and I snatched it off the bedside table. I thought it might have been Ike. He's the only one who bothers texting me anymore. But the number that comes up is unfamiliar. And the text, confusing:

1 MORE THING I HATE ABOUT JOO.

If I wasn't mistaken, that almost sounded like…

WHAT? CARTMAN?

I sent the message and threw the phone on the mattress beside me. I stared up at the ceiling for a while, deep in thought, absently scrutinizing the little star stickers a previous student had stuck there. Minutes later, my phone went off.

JOO. JINGER. JERZY. FAG.

His text took me aback. Not because he'd said it, but because for him to say it, Stan must have told him about our conversation a fortnight ago. So what did he tell him, exactly? That I was a fag in denial? Suddenly angry, I punched the keys of the phone. It ended up taking twice as long to type the message this way.

I'M NOT A FAG, FAT-ASS. GO FUCK YOURSELF.

I turned the phone off, suddenly hurt. Maybe it was just a coincidence. It was nothing new for Cartman to call me a fag. But he _had _to have been talking to Stan in order to get my number and rip on me. I put a hand on my throbbing head and closed my eyes. I didn't hear the phone beep again, and so didn't get the new text messages until the next morning.

I think it's safe to say that if you look forward to something enough, you'll jinx it and it'll all go horribly wrong.

My alarm clock went off early the next morning. I heard it just outside the depths of my sleep and it slowly coaxed me awake. I flicked my eyes open, then hid them again from the overhanging light I'd forgotten to turn off. The sun was new, the alarm was blaring, and my head throbbed. I rolled over to go back to sleep, when I saw my cell phone on the mattress beside me.

I rushed out of bed, realizing what day it was. A half-filled duffel bag sat deflated on the ground by my wardrobe and I rushed to pack, my muscles aching from such sudden activity after a deep sleep.

I was almost packed when I remembered the texts from Cartman last night. I quickly checked my phone, only to find three unread text messages.

U SOUND LIKE A FAG WIF SAND UP HIS VAGINA. 4GOT TO TELL U STAN ISN'T CUMING. LOL.

That message was sent last night. I almost pressed reply, furious, but then decided to check the other texts.

KYLE, THIS IS STAN. SORRY COULDN'T GET HOLD OF U YESTERDAY. AM USING MOM'S PHONE. DID CARTMAN TELL U. WENDY'S IN HOSPITAL. COULDN'T COME. SORRY. BUT C U WHEN U GET HERE DUDE. CARTMAN'S BRINGING MY CAR STILL.

My heart dropped; I could almost feel it like a physical thing. This was supposed to be a trip for the four of us, and I was looking forward to seeing Stan more than anybody. I kept my cool as I replied, telling myself that there'll be plenty of time to go on road trips in the three months I'm with them.

DUDE. SHE OK? TOO BAD. SEE YOU THEN.

Finally I checked the last message, only to see, with some disappointment, that it was Cartman.

FINE JOO IGNORE ME BUT I'LL BE THERE TOMORRO AT 8 TO KICK UR ASS.

I looked at the time on my phone and swore. It was 7:30! I finished packing, rushing so quickly that I had a stitch by the time I was done. Then I showered and dressed in the clothes I'd picked out last night – it was nothing too flashy; a textured black shirt that showed off the little muscle I had, plain denim jeans, and my converse shoes. I even went as far as to take off the silver chain around my neck, but then I realized I looked bare without it and put it back on. I didn't wear a hat today, so my hair was free-flowing and now it reached almost to my shoulders.

The attire suited me, but I knew already it wouldn't go down so well with the others. Or, at least, with Cartman.

Fuck the fat-ass, I thought. I can dress how the hell I like. Too bad if he calls me a fag. I'll just pull some 'in-built gaydar' insult.

I smirked at my reflection. Somewhere outside, I heard the faint sound of music steadily approaching. I walked to the window and looked out. The expanse of the school stretched out as far as I could see. In the middle was an empty football oval, and surrounding it were more brown-brick buildings. The sky was overcast, the clouds bulging with rain. On the thin black road that curved around the oval, I saw a familiar rusted blue Jeep bounce its way towards the dorm parking lot.

Shit, that's them, I thought nervously. The roof was up and I couldn't see their faces inside, so I moved away from the window suddenly, in case they could see me. I checked my phone again. There were no more messages from Stan. Disappointed, I quickly typed to him:

THEY'RE HERE. SEE YOU IN A COUPLE DAYS.

Then I took a deep breath, looked myself over in the mirror once more, scolded myself for wearing something so tight-fitting, and then gave up and sat on the bed. I've known these guys forever, I thought. They won't care how I look. Well, maybe Cartman will, but I'm used to his bullshit.

Six months isn't a huge amount of time. Everything will be normal. I can handle this.

I breathed in again, hoping it'd calm my racing heart. And I waited for the knock on the door.

Their voices came to me before the knock did: Kenny's quiet talking alongside Cartman's loud, obnoxious tone. Although they were muffled and I couldn't hear their exact words, my heart froze.

I really had to stop freaking out like this.

A loud knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts. I bolted up off the bed and swung it open.

"Kyle! Dude!" Kenny greeted, slinging an arm around my neck in a friendly hug. He looked no different to when I'd last seen him, except that he seemed a lot more confident now with his hood down. For such a poor kid, he looked great. His hair was still unkempt, but his skin practically glowed. Maybe it was just the excitement in his blue eyes.

I returned the hug and said, "Hey man, I've missed you guys."

At my words, I looked past Kenny to see Cartman's figure leaning heavily against the doorway. He was watching me, arms crossed. His expression was passive; not scowling like I thought it would be. And my God, had he changed! He'd grown taller, which meant he now towered over the average guy, and the muscle that bulged from his arms only made him all the more giant. His face had slimmed down a lot, leaving only a little pudginess around his cheeks. And his hair, not being cut for a while, curved around his ears and almost reached his jawbone. He looked like a total jock. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I thought of my meager body. I wasn't that much shorter than him, but I didn't have the size about me.

"Fat-ass," I greeted. It was all I could manage right now.

"Jew-fag," he shot back coolly. His eyes narrowed only slightly.

"Cartman, get Kyle's bag will you?" Kenny said. His arm had been over my shoulder this whole time and now he slid it away.

"The Jew can carry his own bag!" Cartman protested.

Again my cheeks went hot. But before I could respond, Kenny said, "Just do it!"

Cartman mumbled something incoherent and pushed past us, shoving me out of the way as he did so. I caught the scent of cologne on his shirt and my stomach did flips. But I didn't have time to analyze what this meant, because a moment later he heaved the bag over his shoulder and made a disgruntled sound.

"What the hell are you carrying in here Jew? Gold?"

"Shut up, fat-ass," I said weakly, as he pushed past me again.

"Do I fucking look fat to you?" he called behind him.

I looked at Kenny for help, but he just shrugged indifferently.

"Asshole," I muttered to Cartman's back as we followed him through the hallway and down the staircase. When we reached the parking lot, Stan's Jeep was being scrutinized by a small group of girls. I recognized each and every one of them, and as they looked up they all shrilled greetings.

Melanie, my closest friend of the group, came up to us and gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll miss you Kyle! Have fun!" Then she looked up, spotted Cartman, and gave him a seductive smile.

"Look after him for me, will you?" she winked before turning on her heel, and went back to the group.

Cartman started to laugh. "You gonna just sit there and let your girlfriend molest me with her eyes, Jew?"

"Shut up Cartman!" I snapped, the fire back in my voice. "She's not my girlfriend. Come on."

I led them to the car where I said goodbye to the others. We had a quick chat, though most of their eyes were on the buff retard beside me. He was taking it all in with a charming smile. Dammit, he has dimples, I thought irately. Girls love dimples.

Kenny practically had to drag him away from the group and into the Jeep. He was the only one of us who had his license. I was told by an amused Stan, one night over IM, that Kenny lost his after being caught drink driving too much.

The Jeep started up, and over the engine the sound of heavy music blasted. The girls waved and dispersed as we drove away. I sat in the back by myself, knowing that if I were to sit in the passenger seat next to Cartman, the car would be filled with insults.

"Stan's really sorry he couldn't make it," Kenny said from in front. We had just passed the school gates, and my mind was whirling with freedom. Outside, the morning sun was just starting to hide behind the darkening clouds. It looked like it was going to rain.

I said, with a liberated smile, "It's cool, dude. What happened to Wendy?"

Kenny hesitated a moment. "She – uh – she got assaulted by some dude at a party…"

"The bitch got raped," Cartman interrupted loudly. "Fucking deserves it too, the whore."

"Cartman!" I said angrily.

"Dude, not cool," Kenny concurred. "You're talking about your girlfriend's best friend."

That news shocked me. I blinked at the back of Cartman's head, forgetting all about Wendy.

"You're going out with Bebe? How the hell does that work?" Last time I checked, Bebe found Cartman repulsive. I guessed that was back before he made his big 'change'.

"I screwed around with her at a few parties," he explained, full of himself. "Now apparently we're in a relationship. I couldn't care less for the whore."

"She's fucking obsessed with you, man," Kenny said.

"Meh," Cartman shrugged. "She's okay, when she's not being a total bitch."

I sat back in my seat and listened to their conversation. Eyes closed, it didn't take me long to tune out. Every now and then, when I focused on it, I could catch a whiff of Cartman's scent. It wasn't cheap and spicy like Kenny's. It was smooth and subtle, and when the whiff was gone I'd try to catch more.

It was addictive.

I rubbed my fingers over my palms. They were covered in sweat. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I get that sensitive twinge of nerves in my stomach whenever I looked the fat-ass's way?

This is crazy…I thought. No…no it's not. He's just taken me by surprise. That's all it is. He might look like a stud but he's still an asshole…

Did I just say stud?

"Dude, you're quiet back there," Kenny noted. "You okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine. I just didn't want to interrupt your conversation."

"We haven't been talking for, like, five minutes."

Kenny shuffled round to look me up and down. He smiled. "I like the new look. I bet the girls are all over you. Doesn't he look hot, Cartman?"

Heat surged up my neck and spread over my face. I slowed my breathing, hoping it'd also slow my heartbeat. I glanced up in the rearview mirror, feeling eyes on me. Cartman had glanced my way, a blank expression over his face.

"Fucking flaming hot," he said sarcastically, "you been eating chili or something?"

My face felt like it was on fire. He'd obviously noticed the blush, so I did what came naturally when I blushed.

"Shut up you fat fuck!" I knotted my brow and wound down the window for some fresh air. Tiny drops of rain splashed my face, and I felt the heat melt away. There was still the nagging problem of the butterflies in my stomach, though.

Soon after, on the outskirts of the city, I noticed the butterflies hadn't gone. Cartman and Kenny included me in their conversations, but both noticed I hadn't been talking much. Cartman would rip on me then for being a Jew or a ginger or a fag, and I would retaliate with some weak comment about him being fat, which obviously had no effect on him anymore.

This wasn't fair, I told myself. Not only because I couldn't rip on him for being a lard-ass now, but because I actually _liked_ the way he looked. And those feelings in my stomach, the nerves shooting up and down my arms to give me goosebumps – it was all too familiar.

As we left the city and the state of California for South Park, Colorado, I realized something that would undoubtedly change myself and my life.

I had a crush on Eric Cartman….

_A/N_: _That's the end of Chapter 2! I hope you're enjoying the read. I know it's starting off pretty slowly but things really spice up in the next few chapters!_


	3. Chapter 3 Las Vegas

**Chapter 3: Las Vegas **

_A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! I'll admit I was nervous about uploading my first story, but I'm really excited to keep going now. Just a quick note, without giving too much away, I've never been to Vegas and I have no idea what the Bellagio is really like, but I've done a lot of research so I hope it's as accurate as possible. Anyway, without further ado, here's chapter 3!_

We arrived in Las Vegas later that afternoon. It should have only been a four-hour trip, but we'd stopped over at nearly every fast food outlet along the way to satiate Cartman and keep him from whining like a little bitch. Then, once we'd gain some speed and cover some mileage, he'd stop at a gas station or another restaurant so he could use the bathroom.

Complaining didn't work, because Cartman would sweetly remind us that it was _he_ who was driving, and without _him_, I wouldn't be getting away from that prissy, dick-eating school. That, and the onslaught of afternoon traffic as we made it into the city meant we didn't reach our hotel until after three.

By that time, Cartman's incessant 'hardcore' music, mixed with dehydration from the unnecessarily long trip, had given me a pounding headache. The Jeep slowed to a stop outside a monumental, curved building. I swallowed hard, a lump forming painfully in my dry throat.

"Jesus Christ dude! The _Bellagio_?" That was Kenny. His eyes were practically bulging out of his skull.

"Figured the Jew was rich enough to afford it," Cartman said nonchalantly. "Right, asshole?"

"I-I…" I couldn't say anything more.

"Good, because I already booked us a room. I overdrew my mom's credit card, so you goddamn better pay me back."

"How much was the room?" I asked uncertainly.

"Seven hundred bucks."

"Seven hundred!"

"Jesus, don't be such a pussy. It's only for one night. May as well enjoy it so we can rub it in Stan's face."

"Fuck yeah!" Kenny shouted, his head out the window so that the cool rainy breeze swept his blond hair back.

Cartman started to laugh. "Too bad you can't afford to come out with me, hey Kenneee?"

"I don't care, dude! I'll just lie in my luxurious bed and beat off to porn all night."

I could almost feel Cartman roll his eyes. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind him, then poked his head in the open window.

"Get your stuff. I'm gonna get our keys."

As he walked away, he threw Stan's car keys to a valet attendant.

By the time Kenny and I made it into the vast, gold-lit foyer, Cartman was returning from the desk with our keys. Outside, the clouds that had been following us had grown into bulging, dark mushrooms that threatened to break open any moment.

The larger boy was silent as we followed him into the elevator.

"This place is unreal!" Kenny breathed.

"I'm glad _you_ think so, Kenny," I grunted. "My mom's gonna kill me when I tell her."

I shot Cartman a look of distaste, but he was gazing past me, at the marble-like elevator walls. He seemed completely lost in thought, and I took this time to steal a better glance at him.

The transformation was…incredible. But it was still Cartman behind all that muscle. He still had a cherub's face; big hazel eyes, small chin, slightly chubby cheeks, all framed by brunette hair that, under this gamboge light, glinted gold. He was so…

My thoughts were cut off by a loud ringing. Cartman instantly snapped out of it and looked directly at me, causing my blood to boil. We locked eyes, and my heart stupidly fluttered. We stood like this for a long time – him staring passively and me fidgeting and turning red under his gaze.

Eventually he kinked his eyebrow and said, "Dude, you gonna answer that?"

_Oh god_, I thought, hurriedly reaching for the phone in my pocket. I hadn't even realized it was mine, too caught up in his gaze. And it shamed me more knowing that that was the reason he'd been looking at me expectantly.

I took a deep but subtle breath and answered, without even acknowledging the number.

"Hello?"

"Hey Kyle." It was Stan. He seemed down.

My thoughts flashed back to Wendy. "Oh, Stan, I'm so sorry. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She just…they beat her up pretty bad."

"They?"

"It was a gang rape," he said dismally. "Dammit, I was so stupid to let her go! Are the guys there with you?"

His sudden change of subject caught me by surprise. "Y-Yeah, they're here."

"Okay, well…we can talk about this another time. I just wanted to see where you guy's were at."

"Oh," I said, without expression. "Well, we're just…checking in…"

It was at that point that Cartman lunged for me, and I let out a ridiculous little squeak when he grabbed my hand. As he ripped the phone from it, he gave me another vexed look.

"Staaan! Great to hear from you buddy." His voice was ludicrously fake.

I rolled my eyes, and in doing so noticed Kenny watching me with a knowing smirk on his lips. I responded with a threatening glare.

"Guess where we are, Stan," Cartman continued. He didn't pause for an answer. "We're in the elevator at the Bellagio. Yeah. On our way to Room 29."

Pause. Stan's soft voice could be heard shouting on the other line. Cartman began to laugh, obviously having riled his friend somewhat.

The elevator stopped just then to let us out. Cartman told Stan he needed to go, that we were at the gates to heaven, and hung up.

We walked into our room, and I dropped my bag to stare at the room before us. Every bit luxury, the suite spread out to contain a small dining table, sumptuous living room with a wide-screen LCD TV, and a bar and kitchenette.

"Where are the beds?" Kenny asked.

"In here," Cartman said, just as we all spotted the open doorway. We walked into the separate bedroom, and Kenny made an annoyed grunt.

"Cartman, you dipshit. There's only one bed."

Cartman flung himself onto the bed and spread out his arms as far as they'd go.

"Shotgun," he said.

"Fuck off," I spat. "I'm the one paying for this room, I get to decide who sleeps in the bed."

"But _Kaahhhl_, the driver needs to rest."

I crossed my arms and looked over to my orange-clad friend. "Kenny gets the bed."

"What?" Cartman and Kenny chorused.

"Kenny wants to beat off to porn all night, the TV in here is bigger." I gestured casually to the wide TV on the wall, which only added to their suspicion. I didn't say the real reason for fear of upsetting Kenny, but I wanted to give the poor boy something to enjoy while he was here. Cartman was right in saying that he couldn't afford to go out with us. And, as much as I could offer to pay his way around Vegas, I selfishly wanted Cartman to myself for one night. I knew that, once we got back to South Park and met again with Stan, I probably wouldn't get another chance.

Not that I thought anything was going to happen. Just looking at Cartman's furrowed brow told me enough how much he hated me right now.

"Ay, that's not fair!" Cartman whined.

"God, shut up, fatass. You're going out tonight, anyway, aren't you? So go find a whore and sleep in _her_ bed."

I walked away to make my decision final, and checked out the rest of the room. Despite the luxury, it still had touches of Las Vegas here and there. Must have been the color scheme of ebony and claret and gold, I thought absently.

I went to my bag and took out some clean clothes, deciding the only way I was going to get rid of this headache was to bathe and wash my tangled shock of hair. I locked myself in the bathroom and turned on the spa bath. Once it was full, I settled down into the hot bubbly water and closed my eyes.

Jesus this felt good. Warm bubbles cascaded over my body; water lapped at my neck and soaked the tips of my hair. I allowed my muscles to relax, only now realizing how tense they'd been this whole time, and let out a long sigh.

Thunder rumbled above, disappointing and exhilarating at the same time. Disappointing because, I knew, we'd get soaked on our night out.

I still had no idea where we'd go in Vegas. I was too young for the casinos. Cartman, too, but he had a fake I.D. And I knew that he hadn't yet invited me to go with him, so maybe he was headed for somewhere like that in hopes we couldn't follow him. But I didn't want to sit around listening to porn through the wall all night, so I was going to convince Cartman to take me somewhere. Anywhere.

My body shuddered at the thought of being alone with him. Blood surged to the one most sensitive part of my body and I felt a twinge of pleasure.

_Shit, shit, shit, _I thought_._ _As if going red wasn't bad enough; now he's making me hard._

No. It was the water. The bubbles. There was _no_ way in hell that fat-ass could ever arouse me.

My hand had a mind of its own though, and it grabbed my hardening cock. Despite my unwillingness it began to pump up and down, caressing me roughly, bringing me closer with every stroke. And my brain couldn't switch off the images of Cartman. It created sick fantasies of him holding me, touching my face. Or kissing me deeply and stroking my cock. Or throwing me against the beige wall of the elevator and pounding me hard.

"Oh god," I breathed, my voice strained.

In the next room, I vaguely heard the TV come on. An audience laughed and applauded. Some weird comedic sound filled the room.

And at the last minute my thoughts twisted to uncharted territory. I imagined Kenny and Cartman in the room beside me, fucking each other, watching me through the wall.

It wasn't a slow ride to a climax. It was forceful; intense. My head swam on the dizzying pleasure.

I thrust myself into my hand more and more. The sounds of the TV muffled out. I was no longer in the hotel room, splashing about in the spa. I was out in the rain, beneath the thunder, pinned against Stan's blue Jeep. And Cartman was inside me, filling me with his seed, breathing huskily in my ear.

"Ahhh," I gasped. "Cartman…I'm gonna…CARTMAN!"

My cock throbbed almost painfully as I came, releasing me from the tension that had been building all day.

It didn't take me long to calm, because I soon realized with a pang of dread that I'd actually screamed his name.

His response came from behind the closed door, loud and annoyed, "What do you want, Jew?"

_You_, I thought, giving in weakly. _I want you_.

"N-Nothing. I thought I saw a spider. It's nothing."

Cartman gave an incredulous 'humph'. "Are you that much of a pussy? Hurry up in there, we're going down to the restaurant soon, and you have to foot the bill."

I sighed and leant my head back against the cold ceramic spa.

_It's probably not the most embarrassing thing to have happened,_ I thought finally, _I mean, at least I didn't get a boner in front of him…_

My throat constricted at the thought. Maybe my plan to accompany him tonight wasn't such a great idea.

I turned the spa off and let out the water before climbing out and grabbing a towel. I looked down at my half-flaccid member, praying that my release would be enough to get me through the rest of the night.

There was a loud knock at the door. "I said hurry up!"

I quickly tugged on my clothes and brushed my hair, cringing at my reflection in the wide mirror as I did so. I'd picked out a taut white shirt with a glittering green nuclear symbol on the front and slim black-blue trousers. With the silver chain around my neck, the neon-blue belt and my fuzzy red hair, I looked all set for a gay rave party. _Just give me some glow sticks, _I thought dismally.

I walked back into the bedroom, where Kenny was laying on the bed and flipping through a channel guide. Cartman sat at the end of the bed, tediously surfing through channels. He spotted me and narrowed his eyes in a glare.

"Took you long enough. I had to take a dump."

With that he stood up and brushed passed me. His sleeve touched my arm and sent terrible shivers down my spine. In that split-second he was directly beside me, I saw for the first time how giant he was in comparison to me. It was very, very intimidating. Even more so now that I didn't hate his guts.

Kenny snatched the remote from the place Cartman had set it and flicked back to the Comedy channel. He turned the volume up considerably, and patted the bed beside him.

Hesitantly I followed his silent instructions. He shuffled over to allow room when I matched his position on the mattress. He looked at me, gorgeous eyes twinkling with a smile.

"Cartman's pretty hot now, hey?" he muttered.

My heart froze, shock coursing through my body. That look in his eyes…he _knew_.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and saw that he was waiting expectantly. "I-I don't know," I lied. "Do you really think so? That's pretty gay, dude."

"Not as gay as jacking off to him," Kenny quipped.

"Oh God," I gasped, and made to stand up. But Kenny grabbed one shoulder and gently pushed me back down. Defeated, I said, "H-How do you-"

"What? You don't think I've ever screamed someone's name jacking off? That yell was unmistakable. You're just lucky the fatass was too stupid to notice."

He shuffled so that he was lying on his side, looking my way. Now I couldn't escape his critical stare.

"Dude, I'm cool with you being gay. Really," he said, as little as that helped. "And Cartman…well…he's changed a lot physically. I can totally understand you beating off to his image. Mentally, though, he's still a retarded little eight-year-old. So promise me one thing: you won't try to get involved with him. Okay?"

"Dude!" I hissed, closing the space between us threateningly. "I will _never_ get involved with that bastard."

He looked at me for a long time, as if taken aback by the sudden fury in my voice. Then the sides of his lips hinted at a smile, and the sparkle returned to his eyes. He reached over and squeezed my cheek.

"Good!" he said teasingly. "I'd hate to see my little Jew hurt."

"Ugh," Cartman's disgusted voice filled the room all of a sudden. "I know Kahl's a fag, but _you_ Kenneee?"

"Don't get your hopes up," Kenny retorted. "I was just giving Kyle a little heart-to-heart."

"Totally gay." Cartman looked at his watch. "I'm fucking starving, are you two coming to eat, or are you going to lie there and make out all night?" He stormed away, disgruntled. A moment later I heard his growling voice say, "Gaahd I hate fags!"

Kenny noticed me cringe and smiled casually.

"See what I mean? If you tell him how you feel, he'll completely destroy you. But don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

He finished with a wink. Vaguely I wondered if Kenny were gay, or at least bisexual. I shuffled out of bed quickly at the thought and straightened my shirt. Kenny followed, and we silently made our way to the restaurant.

Not much was said over dinner, in the vast dimly-lit orb of a restaurant. I spent much of the time nibbling at my smoked salmon and stealing glances at the other groups spread out around neighboring tables. Much of them, I realized with dismay, were couples. This led my unwilling eyes to Cartman, who was busy devouring two succulent steaks.

I didn't watch him for long, because I felt Kenny's eyes on me. Instead I looked around at the patterned walls and motifs, and then up at the domed ceiling.

Kenny, when he wasn't watching me watch Cartman, had his eyes on a waitress who seemed to take every chance she got to bend over nearby, giving us all a nauseating look up her dress. I figured, the way she'd innocently look back to Kenny, it was all a show for him.

So it was no surprise that, after dessert, Kenny decided he'd stick around a while to see how this played out for him.

"I'm going to a club," Cartman announced, leaning back in his chair to soothe his satisfied stomach.

"What am I gonna do?" I blurted.

He didn't seem to hear the desperation in my voice. He just shrugged, and said, "I dunno, jerk off with Kenny all night?"

"Fuck you," Kenny breathed. I glanced over at him, alarmed, but he was watching the waitress and I couldn't help but wonder if his words were directed at her.

"Can I come with?" I asked Cartman, fighting back the pleading in my voice. "I don't want to be stuck listening to Kenny…do whatever he's planning to…all night."

Cartman screwed his nose up at me, a hateful glare marring his features. I got the same look on my face when my mom told me to take Ike somewhere. It was a look that said he really didn't want to take me, but it seemed to him like he had no choice.

"I'll never get into a club with a _minor_ hanging off me," he said grumpily.

"Cartman, the bouncers here will look right through that I.D of yours," Kenny said, now that his waitress was nowhere to be seen. "They're not rednecks like the guys in South Park. Hell, those guys _know_ how old you really are and still let you in. It won't work here."

"Shut up, poor boy. You're just jealous because I'm gonna get wasted and yeeww can't."

With that, Cartman stood up and threw his unused napkin onto the table. I followed suit, and when I stopped to pay the bill he even waited for me.

"Whatever dudes," Kenny muttered. "Have fun on your faggy night out."

_A/N: Ahh looks like the tension is starting to build…what will happen on Kyle and Cartman's night out? Chapter 4 coming soon!_


End file.
